


We're Gonna Get Along Just Fine

by NoisyNoiverns



Category: Mass Effect (Comics), Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Beginnings, Developing Friendships, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-14 16:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11211747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoisyNoiverns/pseuds/NoisyNoiverns
Summary: Desolas's new second-in-command is a bit lower rank than he was expecting, and her attitude gives him a pretty good idea why.





	We're Gonna Get Along Just Fine

**Author's Note:**

> desolas is a colonel in this, not quite to his general's rank for m.e.: evolution

Desolas yawned and leaned back in his chair, tucking his hands behind his head. The first few days of a new assignment were always slow as they waited for everyone to get shuttled in from various locations around turian space. _Supposedly,_ his second-in-command would be showing up today. If everything ran according to schedule, he had just enough time for a nap before she reported in.

A knock at the door dashed all hopes of _that._

He groaned and sat up, rubbing at his temples. “Enter.”

The door slid open, and a burly crestless he dimly recognized from the personnel files he’d been given for the posting marched in. She came to a stop in front of the desk and saluted, every move crisp and perfect and practiced. “Sir, First Lieutenant Valis Abrudas reporting.”

He returned the salute, then flicked a mandible. “At ease. Take a seat, Lieutenant.”

She wasted no time, dragging over one of the two chairs in the corner and settling right on down. Every line of her body shifted, rigid to fluid, professional to off-duty. He could _feel_ her golden gaze raking over him, studying him, trying to decide without probing what kind of superior he was going to be. It was a familiar sensation. Already a fresh-made colonel at only fifty-six, he was more than used to curiosity (and, in quite a few cases, doubt).

Two could play that game. He watched her watch him, analyzing every little detail. Everything about her was _broad-_ her shoulders, her cowl, her head. She was built like a tank, like her file full of combat rankings had promised. Her hands were ungloved, showing faint soot streaks on her pale gold plates, residue from the grenade belt she supposedly used as a secondary weapon. In short, she looked like the type of turian who could beat him into the ground if she so desired.

His favorite kind.

 _None of that_ , he scolded himself, going to pick up the datapad with her file on it off the top of the pile. Fantasies were for later. He shook his head to clear away all thoughts other than what was pertinent to the military and activated the datapad. “So, you’re the new second, huh?”

She grunted. “Surprised?”

He raised a brow plate and lowered one mandible, scrolling down the first page. “I’ll admit, I was expecting someone higher rank.” He squinted at a number on the screen. “Is this right? You’re fifty?”

She raised her head and lowered her mandibles, a clear challenge. “Not all of us are prodigies, _Colonel.”_

“I know _that_ ,” he snapped back. What did she think challenging _him_ would accomplish, at such a rank difference? “But fifty’s pretty old for a first lieutenant. Shouldn’t you be a captain by now?”

She eyed him carefully, then looked away with a quick snap of her head. _Grudging deference_ , hummed her subvocals. “Promotion boards don’t like me.”

“And why’s that?” he prodded, letting a note of irritation creep into his subvocals. She might as well be aware what she was pushing.

The one visible eye flicked back to him, then away again. “Take a guess. It’s probably in there, anyway.”

He frowned, but clicked his mandibles and went back to scrolling the datapad anyway. There was always a section devoted to promotions – which ones, when they’d been considered, the result, and, sometimes, the reasoning. The most recent nine or so entries all started with “Captain,” then a dash, then _DENIED_ and the date. A tap of his finger on each, and the reasons were revealed. Bad attitude. Talking back to superiors. Insubordination not major enough to mean discharge.

He raised a brow plate and looked up, mandibles still set in a grimace. “So you’re a smartass.”

She faced him again, mandibles going down and out, subvocals rumbling another challenge. “They don’t like me because I’m not scared of the shiny bars on their shoulders.”

His other brow plate joined the first, and he set the datapad down, folded his arms on the desk, and leaned forward. “And what about me? I’m not that much older than you, but I’m a colonel.”

To his surprise, she just snorted. “Please. Your rank just means you impressed a bunch of higher-ups. Don’t kid yourself here, sir. You’re just a kid to them, so they lumped you with the problem child and hoped you’d get bogged down for a bit.”

He stiffened, and she scoffed, leaning forward. “Don’t act like you weren’t thinking it. I mean, this posting is just a standard guard duty on a planet we hate, isn’t it? Why would they send a prodigy _here_ if not to slow his progress a little?”

He hesitated, then slowly leaned back in his chair, working his mandibles in circles. She had a point. It wasn’t like the higher-ups liked somebody half their age sliding in. He could have gotten a promotion that very second, and he still wouldn’t even be the youngest general ever. He’d missed _that_ record by three years and a month. “Alright,” he began, folding his hands in his lap. “You seem smart. Your file seems to think you’d be brilliant, if you’d keep your mouth shut when you’re told. Why do you keep talking back?”

She eyed him, like she was trying to decide if he was genuinely asking or not, then settled back in her seat. “If I see an easier way to do things, I speak up. Take less time, prevent more deaths – whatever, if it’s an improvement on my superior’s plan, I’ll say so. And sometimes _do_ so, whether they give the go-ahead or not. Turns out, they don’t really like that.”

“So you get results, but not the way they want you to.”

“Exactly.”

He nodded, flicking his mandibles and mulling that over in his head. “Okay,” he said finally, “I can work with that. You let me know when you think you see an improvement to the plan, I’ll see if I can make it happen, and if I can’t, you do as you’re told. Meet each other halfway.”

She tilted her head and squinted at him, one mandible hanging loose. Her eyes were unreadable, but he wagered a guess she wasn’t sure she could believe him. After a long moment, she straightened up and nodded, folding her hands. “Sounds fair to me. Kind of ridiculous it took this long for anyone to think of compromising, but I guess that’s what you get when you put the new kid on the block in charge, huh? Innovation.”

His mandibles quirked up, and he reached across the desk, offering a hand. “I like you already, Lieutenant. Let’s keep it that way.”

**Author's Note:**

> anyways i wasn't sure why desolas, a general, would have abrudas, a lieutenant, as his second-in-command, so here's my explanation


End file.
